Dean tossed the dishcloth in the trash and put the cleaning stuff away, swiftly washing his hands afterwards, twice, because they smelled of bleach and blood. Castiel was now reading, his lives clearly used up, and he didn't look when he asked, 'what took you so long?'
'Chatty neighbor,' Dean lied easily, walking over and sitting next to Cas again. 'Used up your lives?'
'Yes,' Castiel nodded, 'I made it to level seventeen. I would have made it farther but the app crashed three times and made me lose three lives because I was in-play when it crashed. I also used up those three pink lollipop things, and all of the gold bars I could spend.'
'Jesus Christ,' Dean muttered.
'No, I'm Castiel,' Cas scoffed.
'Yeah, you're right,' Dean agreed. 'Jesus is back in Kansas. Get it? Because of Sam's hair, and when he hasn't shaved in a few days …'
'I understand your joke, Dean,' Castiel replied, rolling his eyes and closing his book. 'There's no need to explain. I'm not as dumb as you may think I look.'
'I don't think you look dumb,' Dean disapproved, frowning as if the statement offended him. 'I think you look great. And smart. Because you are smart, you're the smartest person I know. Even above Sam. It's just that my jokes can me a little lame and usually need explaining to people unless they're so bad that they're obvious and just piss everyone off.'
'Your jokes aren't bad, Dean,' Castiel frowned. 'I think you're funny … most of the time.'
'And I think I'm hilarious,' Dean agreed, 'but other people don't because their senses of humor are dryer than a nun's vagina.'
'Crude,' Castiel replied. 'Yet still funny, unless you're a nun.'
'I like you, you think I'm funny,' Dean grinned. 'I like you a lot.'
'I would hope so,' Castiel said crisply, 'otherwise I don't know what I'm doing here. It seems completely illogical to help someone who doesn't like you, even if his brother is Jesus.'
'Speaking of Jesus,' Dean segwayed, 'didn't he text you?'
'What?' Castiel asked in confusion, and then he got it. 'Oh! Right. Sam texted. I should check that.'
Dean watched patiently as Cas pulled out his phone and got up his messages, read, and then sighed.
'You were right earlier,' he stated blankly. 'He's completely in love with me.'
No, that's the other brother, Dean thought. Sitting right here.
'Told you,' Dean sighed, shaking his head. 'Poor guy. What does he want?'
'He says, "hey, just checking in to make sure you're okay, heard you've been talking to Dean and I'm glad you seem good. You should visit some time if you get off work." I didn't know he cared so much.'
'Of course he does,' Dean said, completely serious. 'It's not like he knows you're here or anything and is doing it to try and get you to admit it. He's not that annoying.'
'There's no way he could know that I'm here,' Castiel frowned. 'You're a good liar, I'm a good liar and this phone is new so he wouldn't be able to track the GPS on it.'
'I'm a good liar?' Dean asked, raising his eyebrows slyly.
'Occasionally,' Castiel allowed him, realizing his slip up. 'Rarely. But occasionally.'
'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' Dean replied sarcastically. 'So what are you going to say to him?'
Castiel held up a finger and began to type, handing the phone to Dean once he'd finished but before he'd sent it.
I'm okay. Dean's been great I appreciate both of you checking in. I'll try and visit if I can. Thank you.
'Obviously the visiting part is a lie,' Castiel explained, as Dean handed his phone back nodding approvingly. 'But the rest is true.'
Castiel pressed send and Dean smiled as he thought of Cas's appreciation.
'You should visit,' Dean told him. 'When … when the thing that's making you not be able to stay there is dealt with, you should visit. Or stay. That's … that's an open ended invitation.'
Dean doubted Castiel would ever really be able to stay with them. He was hoping Cas would have his grace back by the time Ezekiel got out of Sam, or soon afterwards at least, and with his grace back Cas likely wouldn't need to. But if there was ever a time, months, even years from now … Dean hoped Cas would take him up on the offer.
'I'll keep that in mind,' Castiel replied, smiling. 'Thank you.'
'Really,' Dean pushed, 'if there's ever anything you might need … if you ever need help, just show up. You need to know, we're family, Cas. We'll help you. I'll help you.'
The look in Cas's eyes after Dean said that made Dean suddenly think it might be, just maybe, a good idea to kiss him. Maybe. He was considering it, and Cas's nonverbal reply was making that consideration lean towards the side of him that was tempted to do it.
'Dean …' Castiel said quietly.
Do it now you fucking moron.
'… thank you.'
'You're welcome. You're always welcome.'
Now.
Cas's smile was so sad. No, not sad. Happy. With sad eyes. Full of gratitude. But still they looked a little sad.
Do it now.
They shouldn't be sad. No, Cas wasn't supposed to be sad.
Now.
Dean reached a hand towards Cas's face–
Sam replied to Cas's text.
Dean jerked his hand back.
Castiel pulled out his phone and looked at Sam's reply: Any time :)
'The smiley face was nice of him,' Castiel commented.
'Yeah,' Dean said, swallowing thickly and quickly getting to his feet. 'Yeah, it was. Uh. I'm going to go check the laundry and … see if it's dry. I'll be … I'll be back.'
'Okay,' Castiel frowned, wondering why Dean was acting so odd. Although, Dean was just odd in general a lot of the time so he ignored it and went back to his reading as Dean slipped out the door.
He had been so fucking close.
If he had just made his move a moment sooner, or if Sam hadn't fucking replied. Fucking Sam. Fucking dumb … dumb … fucking dumb moose. It was moments like these that made Dean wish he was an only child, so he could kiss the damn dude he'd been completely in love with for years in fucking peace.
It was like Sam was doing it on purpose. Like he was getting Dean back for all the times he'd said 'I don't have a thing for Cas' over the years. FUCK. THAT. SHIT.
Fuck that shit.
Fuck that shit.
Fuck that– the fuck is that?
Oh, fuck that.
"GOD"
In blood.
On Piper and Dani's door.
Walking back up a few feet …
"HATES"
On Dalia's.
On Dave's.
GOD HATES and a huge fucking arrow pointing to his and Cas's apartment. Fucking great.
Dean went back into the apartment and looked at Cas, still looking as innocent as he had earlier, just with a book instead of a phone. Dean felt a pang, a physical ache in his chest, when he saw that and thought of the message, the third one of the same words targeting them.
'Cas,' Dean said from the doorway.
Castiel looked up inquisitively and asked, 'yes?'
'Are you planning on leaving the apartment any time soon?'
'No? Why?'
Dean sighed unsteadily.
'Don't,' he advised.
Castiel put his book down and got to his feet, approaching Dean looking worried.
'Why not?'
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He'd have to tell him, he'd have to – but that didn't mean Cas had to see it, and it looked a lot worse than it sounded if that were even possible.
'There's a message,' Dean replied evenly. 'Like the ones from the walls. And it's the second one today.'
'The second?'
Cas was getting closer, a crease between his brows. Another few steps closer, and Dean would have to block him.
'When I said a neighbor wanted to borrow cleaning stuff earlier …' Dean cringed, fearing a bad reaction, 'I lied. There was a message on our door that I cleaned off. And now there's one on the other three on the hallway with an arrow pointing at ours – don't.'
Dean put his hands up and Cas walked right into them. Dean took the opportunity of having his hands against Cas's shoulders to tighten his grip and squeeze them supportively.
'Is it bad?' Castiel asked quietly.
'You wouldn't want to see it,' Dean told him awkwardly. 'Just let me take care of it.'
Castiel nodded and Dean wanted to slam his head against a wall because Cas definitely looked sad now, and not the sadness mixed in with other things that made it seem like a good idea to kiss him, but the kind of sadness that needed support and made Dean's protective nature kick in, although he knew Cas didn't need protecting.
'I'll wait here,' Castiel replied, sighing. 'I'll get back to reading. Or … Or I could use your laptop and look up … creatures that leave messages for its victims. Just to see. If there's anything …'
'Do that,' Dean encouraged, squeezing his shoulders again with the strongest urge to hug Cas, but he restrained himself; it wasn't like Cas was being personally targeted, it was the two of them, two random people chosen in the building, so the two of them should be feeling bad. But for Cas it was just so much more personal.
'And what are you going to do?' Castiel asked.
'I'm going to call the number we got from Harri when we first got here. On that piece of paper with instructions and stuff, the number she said to call if we need help with anything. And I'm going to check if the laundry is done, like I said. I won't be long.'
Castiel nodded, and Dean dropped his hands. Cas turned and went towards the kitchen table where Dean kept his laptop and he opened it up, noting the laundry basket was still on the table.
'You forgot the basket the first time you went to leave,' he pointed out helpfully.
'Oh, right, yeah,' Dean frowned, glancing up from the paper and over at it. He finished keying the number into his phone to press the call button once he left, and put the paper back in the drawer they kept it in. 'Thanks.'
Castiel nodded but said nothing, waiting for the laptop to boot up. Dean grabbed the basket and gave Cas a tight smile before he left. He didn't receive one in return.
Cas searching up "GOD HATES YOU." as soon as everything was loaded up wasn't a good idea. He assumed that's the message it was, the one from the hollow in the wall, still seared onto the surface of his brain from last night. There were some stupid joke images, a video from a sermon, a book and some question-asking websites offering advice to "sinners." And then there was the website for the Westboro Baptist Church, –
No. Fuck no. That was disgusting, even just from the name he refused to let himself finish reading.
He clicked on it once, scrolled down the page and closed it in disgust
None of the rest of the results made any sense in the context of the message, either, so he moved on to looking up what he'd told Dean he was going to look up.
That stupid Westboro thing was still on his mind, though. Stupid homophobic dickbags. Just like whatever was leaving the messages in the walls and apparently not just in the walls anymore. Just like the stupid people who didn't understand, were delusional and blinded and led by lies.
It affected Cas more than it would have a few days ago, for obvious reasons.
He managed to get onto the right sites for supernatural beings and creatures quickly, but none of them held answers for his question about creatures that left messages; the closest thing to a creature leaving message was about a spirit guide on some website about witches, and the guide was only for witches and the guides definitely didn't kill people.
Castiel shut off the laptop in frustration and stood up, intending to go back to the couch and read while he awaited Dean's return, but he lingered in the middle of the room, parallel to the door. The message was out there, and he knew what it was, but there was an impulse calling him towards it, begging him to take a look even though Dean said he shouldn't.
He appreciated that Dean was trying to protect him from it, even though he didn't feel like he needed protecting. But he understood where Dean was coming from. Seeing it would be so much worse than knowing about it, seeing it targeted at him like that. He knew it wasn't for him personally, he knew this thing didn't know who he was or what he was – or rather had been – to direct this at him, but he couldn't help his feelings. It was like being in love with Dean – he couldn't stop that, and he couldn't stop being paranoid about that message.
He took a step closer to the door, testing the waters of how he felt about going out there. He didn't want to. But he wanted to. But he didn't want to. But he wanted to.
He put his hand on the handle and then jerked back as if it had burned him.
No, no. He didn't want to. Dean had even advised against it, and if Dean seemed unsettled by seeing it, then it must be bad.
Why would he want to put himself through that? To punish himself? Maybe. For things he'd done in the past, in the not so distant past, that he blamed himself for and still felt guilty about despite Dean's near-constant reassurances. Hell, maybe even to punish himself for the whole being in love with Dean thing because Dean deserved better than someone like him feeling like that about him. Dean deserved a good person, and a person who believed they were good, not someone who Dean thought was good but in actuality wasn't.
Castiel took two steps forward again, and then another one back.
But see, thing was, he'd finally started to feel better about things. About his situation. About himself. Because of the kind words he seemed to be showered with every time Dean opened his mouth. It didn't make sense that he was suddenly falling back into his pit of worry and self-doubt and self-loathing.
But it did make sense. It made sense because he didn't deserve to be out of that pit.
No.
No, it made sense because … he was being thrown back in by a negative message that was affecting him badly. That was obvious. It was affecting him badly, and that was the only thing that could be throwing him into a pit Dean had raised him so far out of …
We're family. We'll help you. I'll help you.
The words rang so familiar in his head, almost like he'd heard them before. Or something like them. He just couldn't quite pinpoint when, where or by whom.
Maybe no one. Maybe he was delusional.
But remembering the words Dean had said to him took him back onto the edge he feared he would jump off of, and he took another step away from the door just as it opened and Dean returned with the basket of clean and dry clothes.
'It's taken care of,' Dean told him as he shut the door behind him. 'The doors are being cleaned off and the cameras are being installed early, this hallway first. What are you doing?'
Castiel realized he was still hovering in the middle of the room and turned away, walking towards the couch.
'I thought I heard a noise outside,' he explained without looking at Dean, 'but it was just you.'
'Are you sure it was just me?'
'You came in a second later,' Castiel told him. 'I'm sure it was just you.'
Dean nodded, seeming satisfied.
'I'll put this stuff away,' Dean said, gesturing the basket he was holding. 'Then maybe we can go out to the garden I was talking about this morning. Look around and be seen and stuff.'
'That sounds like a plan,' Castiel nodded, so Dean went ahead and disappeared.
Castiel suddenly found himself very glad that last night on their way to the car Castiel had made a detour to the dumpster to throw out that stupid old greying underwear he'd been wearing when they arrived here that he'd intended to throw out, because the thought of Dean opening his underwear drawer to stow his underwear away and seeing that made him uncomfortable.
The thought of Dean had his underwear drawer, however, was exciting.
In that sense that they were at ease with each other enough to be cool with that.
And in the sense that Dean, the incredibly attractive man he happened to be in love with, would be close to his underwear and had actually handled a pair.
And they'd talked about his underwear choice earlier.
And Dean had gotten a little flirtatious.
Jokingly, of course.
And it wasn't even noon yet – ten to, to be exact.
All that before noon and still an entire day of … stuff ahead of them.
Cas liked how the day was turning out so far.
Cas had only read a few pages when Dean returned and made his way to the sofa and instead of sitting on it, got on his knees in front of it which was another pleasant turn the day was taking until Castiel mentally slapped himself and realized Dean was getting something out of the bag he kept under there, which turned out to be his copy of A Game of Thrones.
'In case there's somewhere we can sit outside together and read for show,' Dean explained when he saw Cas looking at the book.
Castiel nodded and closed his own book, standing up, the two of them walking to the door together.
'Time to be a couple,' Dean stated the obvious once they'd reached the door and paused, Dean taking a deep breath.
'Yes,' Castiel nodded.
And then before he knew what he was doing, he did something stupid and offered Dean his arm like he'd seen people, one half of couples, do. And he went into a complete panic, because first of all they weren't even outside yet, they weren't even out of the apartment yet, and second of all this was previously undiscussed, undone and uncalled for. All they'd done was hand holding which had been working fine, they were getting used to it now so for Cas to do this stupid th
HOLY FUCKING HELL DEAN'S HAND WAS ON HIS ARM.
Dean had linked his arm through Cas's and had his hand resting, wrapped around Cas's upper arm. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, but not in a bad way and an impressed look was in his eyes and on his lips. Castiel was unsure of what to do with the arm Dean was holding, but then figured he could straighten it and put his hand in his pocket so his arm wasn't in this weird stiff position, or wasn't just hanging lamely by his side.
So they proceeded forward and out of the apartment with Dean's arm looped through Cas's, Dean's hand on Cas's upper arm, Cas trying very hard not to collapse under the weight of his now rapidly beating heart and Dean trying hard not to tense his fingers and accidentally feel the muscles of Cas's bicep because it was an enormous temptation that he had to resist.
Dean locked the door behind them one handed, holding his book under his free arm as he did so, and they continued through the building. The previously bloodied doors were now thankfully clean.
They continued through the building as they were, joined and silent and afraid to move their linked arms even a millimeter. If Dean's hand slid up or down Cas's arm, of if Cas's arm loosened or tightened away from his body, it felt like it could get awkward even though it shouldn't. They'd shared a mug, made underwear jokes and Dean had implied a dick joke, a big dick joke, and earlier they'd even joked about Cas beating Dean's ass without adding the "at ping pong" part. Yet physical contact was still utterly terrifying.
They were joined in the elevator on the second floor by a young man who smiled and nodded at them, so they did the same in return. They seemed to pass as being completely relaxed, because they received no odd looks in the elevator or when they reached the lobby, and turned in the opposite direction of the other person.
Someone was coming in through the double doors at the end of the lobby as Dean and Cas approached, exiting and turning right at once, signs pointing them in the right direction.
'So how many people do you think live in this building anyway?' Castiel asked curiously as they walked along, a grassy area soon greeting them, surrounded by hedges, many of which were shaped attractively like spirals or wavy, tall lines of green.
'There's four apartments on the first floor,' Dean thought out loud, 'eight on eight of the floors and four on the tenth. So that's … sixty four, sixty eight … seventy two. With more than one person living in maybe half of them. Half of seventy two is … hang on … it's thirty six, add that to the seventy two … a little over a hundred. One hundred and eight to be exact.'
Castiel stopped walking, so Dean stopped walking with him and gave him an inquisitive look.
'What?' Dean asked.
'That was fast math,' Castiel said, very impressed indeed. 'And without even a pen and paper …'
'It's easy,' Dean shrugged. 'Eight by nine, seventy two. Basic multiplication. Then thirty and thirty is sixty, six and six is twelve, that's sixty and twelve, seventy two. Take one of the thirties and one of the sixes, you get half of seventy two. Then add thirty to seven and two to six, you're done.'
'You …' Castiel paused, frowning. 'You're smarter than people give you credit for. You're smarter than you take credit for.'
'Not to most people,' Dean shrugged, as they continued walking again, having reached the garden which was large and spacious, though only a section of the park that used to be where part of the building was now. 'I got bad grades because I didn't care and I didn't care about going to college because that's not me. I dropped out of high school senior year to help dad with hunting … and then there's Sam who graduated with good results and went to Stanford. Who do you think people are gonna see as the smart one?'
'It's true Sam would be the obvious pick,' Castiel acknowledged, 'but people shouldn't merit intelligence on grades or schooling. They should listen to the things people say, like the things you say. You have the high intelligence to come up with all kinds of plans and have the intelligence to do math in your head fast. You're interested in interesting things and you have more pop culture references in your head like they're on a rolodex than anyone I've ever met. Sam may be book smart, but you're smart too.'
'You think?' Dean asked, as they passed a hedge shaped like the symbols for the male gender, two of them intertwined and nearby, the same for the female symbols.
'I know,' Castiel said firmly. He would have used his other hand, the one not in his pocket, to pat Dean's arm if he didn't have a book in that hand. 'You should give yourself more credit, Dean. You're smarter than you think. You're a better person than you think. And you mean more to people than you think.'
Dean turned away from Cas's steady and serious gaze to look at the grass beneath their feet, dry where it had likely been damp earlier in the morning. He couldn't meet Cas's eyes, lest Cas see the irony Dean felt shining through.
'I could say the exact same thing about you,' Dean said quietly as they came to a stop near a bench and separated, standing in front of each other, though Dean left his hand on Cas's arm. 'But then again it seems like these days everything you say you think about me, I think about you too.'
Except for the fact that I'm in love with you, Castiel said sadly to himself in his head. You're not in love with me, and that, Dean, is the problem.
'This looks like a good spot to read,' Castiel muttered, turning away and feeling a lump in his throat that he was afraid Dean could see. 'Let's … let's sit.'
Dean frowned at Cas, sensing some discomfort and sat down to the left of him. Being bold, he placed his hand on his shoulder.
His right shoulder.
Dean's arm was around Cas.
Oh dear god.
'Hey,' Dean said softly, making Cas look at him, their faces approximately ten inches apart. 'You okay?'
'I'm fine, Dean,' Castiel brushed off, turning his face away.
'Cas,' Dean pleaded, giving his shoulders a little shake, 'talk to me. Come on.'
'That's the thing,' Castiel replied flatly with a laugh filled with irony, 'I can't talk to you. Because when you say things like that …' he sighed, heavy, 'I can't talk to you. Because I don't know what to say.'
'You don't have to say anything,' Dean said how he thought was helpfully.
'Then why did you ask me to talk to you?'
'I meant talk to me about what you're not okay about,' Dean explained, pained. 'I'm sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable.'
'But you didn't,' Castiel stressed, turning to face him with his whole body, making Dean drop his arm from around is shoulder. 'The opposite, actually. And there's no way I can reply to let you know how much it means without sounding stupid or repetitive or saying too much.'
'Say too much,' Dean begged of him. 'I thought we talked about this. You don't have to hold back. You can say anything.'
'Dean, I –' Castiel cut him off quickly, swallowing unsteadily, took an equally unsteady breath and then calmed down from his sudden interruption. 'I … can't.'
'Why not?'
'Because … I can't think of anything.'
'Then like I said,' Dean pressed, putting his hand on his shoulder again, reaching out in front of him, their faces no longer a mere ten inches apart, but an arm's length apart. 'You don't have to say anything. Just don't be upset by it. Promise me, Cas.'
'I promise,' said Castiel, close to a whisper. 'Dean …' His hand went up to hover near Dean's face, inches away from resting against his cheek. 'I … promise … I –'
Castiel's hand dropped and the two of them whipped apart when screaming reached their ears, but it was only two men excitedly jumping up and down at a picnic table across the grass, embracing, likely after finding out some good news or something else that would make them react like that.
Now they knew that there was no one being brutally murdered in the quiet garden with a dozen people walking or seated, they turned back to each other but the moment was gone.
'Let's … read for a while,' Dean decided after a less than comfortable pause.
Castiel nodded still not looking as though he were in as good a mood as he should have been. Dean lifted his hand and patted Cas's cheek once, offering the ghost of a smile, before they turned away from each other and opened their respective books.
Dean could barely see words in his, because he couldn't believe that he'd had his hand on Cas's arm, his arm around Cas's shoulders and had been daring enough to pat Cas's actual literal face. For a moment Dean worried that with their strange and tense conversation they hadn't been looking like a real couple, but then he realized that's exactly what they looked like.
Touching.
Comforting.
Their faces less than a foot apart.
Dean nudged closer to Cas, and linked their arms together again, looping his through Cas's and then back out far enough to hold his own book steady with both hands.
Dean wanted nothing more than to be able to lay his head against Cas's and not move for several hours, days or weeks. He wanted to touch Cas's face again, but let his hand linger there. He wanted their faces to be less than a foot apart, less than an inch apart, less than a breath apart. And then he wanted to separate, just a little, but still remain so close that he could count Cas's eyelashes and count every shade of blue in Cas's endlessly blue eyes.
He realized he was staring at Cas instead of at the book he was supposed to be reading. He didn't care. Cas was prettier than the book, and it's not like Cas knew because Cas was too busy with his book, and if anyone saw how Dean was staring, it just put more emphasis on the fact that they were a couple.
Except they weren't, and they never would be.
Dean found it hard to believe that it had only been less than a week since he'd walked into that Gas 'n' Sip and stated "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend" with such casual ease.
Dean found it hard to believe he'd been with Cas almost all day every day for almost a week.
Dean didn't know what he was going to do when he could no longer see Cas every day.
The thought put a lump in his throat and he was forced to focus his eyes on the words in his book, finally, to push the thoughts away.
Dean's head was far from clear, but he was able to semi-enjoy a half hour of reading by Cas's side before his neck got stiff from looking down so he closed his book and decided to watch the happenings around him instead. People came and went from the garden, some admiring the hedges and the flowers, some eating lunch at one of the picnic tables others appearing to be working at a picnic table, laptop or papers or book out in front of them. Dean spotted Piper on her laptop, working alone.
It was a clear, dry, cool day, so it was a good outdoor environment to be in. The breeze had a bite, but barely blew. It didn't bother Dean, and it certainly didn't seem to bother Cas who's arm was warm pressed up against him. Dean was able to feel how hard Cas's arm was through his shirt.
Strong, muscled arms.
Toned shoulders and back.
Sharp shoulder blades that could cut someone.
Dean was forced to draw in a breath and close his eyes, tilting his head back to try and calm his breathing which was tempted to accelerate.
Castiel noticed Dean's head tilting and looked at him.
'Are you okay?' he asked timidly.
'Fine,' Dean replied, righting himself. 'Just … stretching out my neck. Been looking down too long.'
'Me too, actually,' Castiel frowned, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand attached to the arm that Dean hadn't looped his through. 'I think … maybe we should go in. This bench isn't the most comfortable thing in the world.'
'Yeah, I know,' Dean complained as Cas closed his book and the two of them stood up. 'It got worse as soon as you mentioned it. My ass must be as flat as a pancake by now.'
There was a man trimming a hedge nearby. Dean wondered if he could borrow those hedge clippers to chop his own head off because he'd just said one of the stupidest and most embarrassing things he'd ever said. To anyone else, it'd be fine. But not to Cas. He didn't want Cas thinking about Dean complaining about his ass, or thinking that it was flat in any way, shape or form. He wanted Cas's hands on his ass, seeing for himself that it wasn't fucking flat.
'I'm sure it's still there,' Castiel told him, not seeming to have been bothered by Dean's comment.
'Could you check?' Dean asked, only half joking.
'If that was a genuine request, sure,' Castiel replied, 'but I think I'll have to pass.'
"If that was a genuine request, sure."
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.
'It was,' Dean said before he could stop himself. 'It was a genuine request.'
Castiel sighed, rolled his eyes and looked behind Dean.
'I can't see anything.'
OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKKKKKK
'Damn. It must be gone, then.'
'Maybe. Or maybe your jeans just don't show it very well.'
OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK
'Yeah, maybe. Are you saying I should take them off?'
Castiel rolled his eyes and picked up his pace so he was a few steps ahead of him.
'Shut up, Dean.'
'Come on,' Dean probed, 'I'm kidding. You know I'm kidding.'
Literally not fucking kidding.
'I know,' Castiel told him. 'And it's annoying.'
'I sincerely apologize.'
'No, you don't.'
'Well you got me there.'
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
'I'm hungry,' said Cas, changing the subject. 'We should go out. Find somewhere to eat.'
Okay less of the long ass fucks. This, he could handle.
'Yeah, me too actually. Quick trip upstairs first then we'll go. Walk the streets and find somewhere.'
'I want to grab my jacket,' Castiel nodded. 'Maybe a sweater, too. The breeze is cold.'
'You're cold?' Dean asked, feeling horrible at the thought because no, Cas wasn't supposed to be cold, he was never supposed to be cold. 'You felt so warm. Not that … not that I was feeling. Like, technically I was, because your arm was right there and my arm was right there, but –'
'I felt warmer there because my arm was pressed against yours and heat was trapped between us,' Castiel told him cutting off the panicked rambling.
Damn right there's heat between us, Dean thought.
'I'd give you my jacket if I was wearing one,' Dean offered emptily. 'We really should have put our jackets on.'
'I agree,' Castiel nodded, 'although until we got out here I forgot we were going outside due to the fact that we weren't going out. I was thinking of the garden as a part of the building albeit an outdoor part.'
'Me too!' Dean exclaimed, nodding along with him. 'It doesn't bother me that much. I was distracted by other things so didn't really pay attention to the temperature.'
'I was distracted by the same thing as you,' Castiel pointed out. 'We're reading the same book, remember?'
'I was distracted by other stuff too,' Dean told him. 'Lost in thought, that sort of thing.'
'You couldn't turn your mind off.'
'Yeah pretty much.'
'I've been there. More often than I care to recount with you.'
'Believe me,' Dean said with a dark laugh, 'me too.'
The amount of times Dean had gotten lost in his mind about Cas was mind blowing. Whether it was inconvenient sexual thoughts about Cas the hot guy, whether it was sad thoughts about Cas, his friend who didn't believe in himself, whether it was about how much he loved Cas and wanted to be near him and touch him and just be close to him, or whether it was about how much he loved him and wanted him to fuck him in the ass until he forgot his own name.
A medley of those thoughts crossed his mind now, and he was reminded of how much he loved Cas, wanted him to believe in himself and wanted him to ram his dick so far up Dean's ass he started choking on it.
Jesus shit those were some conflicting thoughts.
Right now all he wanted to do was get inside and get that precious little angel warm and then fed.
Or precious little ex-angel.
Precious not so little ex-angel.
Precious not so little ex angel who's thighs were so not so little that he literally couldn't find boxer briefs that would fit him because of them.
Well, at least he knew that if one day he accidentally saw Cas in his underwear, he wouldn't be staring at the outline of his dick due to the looser fabric.
Disappointing, but a relief.
Dean wanted to stare at the outline of Cas's dick.
Or just at his dick.
Fuck, his thoughts went from cute and loving to shockingly sexual fast.
Eh, whatever. Romantic frustration, sexual frustration … they both went hand in hand.
Fuck then cuddle.
Cuddle then fuck slowly with lots of small, fluttering kisses.
Fuck really hard until Dean's ass was on fire but then fall asleep in Cas's arms so that he didn't really care about his burning ass, and damn he must have been fucked good because his ass was burning despite using enough lube.
They reached the inside and the change in the temperature was immediate. Dean hoped Cas would warm up soon, or was already beginning to. He really fucking wished he was wearing a jacket he could give to Cas who's hand he made a grab for because there were people in the lobby, one on the way outside, one about to go upstairs and another waiting for the elevator.
Pleasantries were exchanged with the stranger from the sixth floor when they were waiting for the elevator, and then again when it stopped on the fourth. They continued holding hands, though, until their apartment door was closed behind them.
'I'll get our jackets,' Castiel offered. 'You get money.'
'What makes you think I'm paying?' Dean teased, folding his arms. 'You still have money left too, you know.'
'You have more,' Castiel replied, knowing it was a joke.
'Touché,' Dean replied slyly. 'Okay, jackets. Go.'
Rolling his eyes in a way he only ever did for Dean, because he had a special eye roll for Dean's silliness, Castiel disappeared while Dean grabbed his wallet from the kitchen table and double checked he had his phone. When Cas came out of the bedroom, Dean almost had a fucking heart attack.
Cas had mentioned possibly getting a sweater too, and he had, a dark blue well-fitting one he wore over his grey and black flannel. It made his upper arms look even better than they usually did, the fabric stretching well over them and Dean had the fleeting thought I touched one of those. The collar of his flannel with the top two buttons open was visible above the neck of the sweater and the untucked shirt ends were visible below it.
Part of Dean wanted to rip off both the sweater and the flannel right fucking now and let his fingers dig into and run all over Cas's body beneath it, and part of him wanted to grab Cas by the shoulders and the waist and the hips while he was still dressed in it and maybe then run a hand underneath, up the back or the front, he didn't really care.
'Here,' said Cas, holding out Dean's jacket.
'Thanks,' Dean replied, barely managing not to stammer.
'You're welcome,' said Cas shrugging on his own jacket which made everything look even better.
The black, the blue and the grey and black. It all coordinated so well, along with Cas's medium blue jeans and his heavy black shoes, the same style that Dean usually wore. Dean was so fucking torn between tearing it all off, and staring at it for hours.
The mystery of what was underneath was killing him. Cas looked so fucking hot in clothes it was agonizing to imagine what he looked like without them.
'Can I …?' Dean asked, reaching out towards Cas's arm lamely in a way that showed he wanted to do that thing from when they were walking down to the garden again.
Cas nodded and Dean practically could have danced with happiness as he linked his arm through Cas's again and put his hand on his upper arm. Formerly there'd been just a thin layer of fabric covering Cas's arm where now there were three layers, but it was no less thrilling. Shit, people who thought Dean and Cas were a couple must have been jealous, staring at Dean and marveling in the fact that he'd gotten someone as hot as Cas.
Though Dean was pretty hot too, and by pretty he meant very fucking, so it wouldn't look like that much of a shock to people. Opposites attract was bullshit, it was hot people for hot people and rub it in the faces of the innocent.
Dean vaguely noted that they'd begun their acting coupley for show before they even left the apartment now. Nice. Before they hadn't even bothered in public outside of the building unless they were around somewhere they'd be a lot like the grocery store. Now they were starting in the apartment, keeping it up in the building and they were still connected when they hit the streets on a food hunt as the time ticked closer and closer to one in the afternoon.
There were no tense or deep moments like the kind they often got into, as they walked the streets and Dean made funny comments about some things he saw, or he made an unfunny but genuine comment leading to an approving discussion about something or other that they saw that looked good. It was a very nice city from what they could see, and they were lucky their building was located near Santa Monica Boulevard where they found a nice little place called Basix Café where Cas got a burger and Dean got a BLT.
It was a pleasant half hour lunch. There wasn't that much talking, but when it was it was speculation about the other people in the place. They came up with a fun game: pick a person and give them a name, life and backstory. They ended up getting quite detailed for some, actually, going in on their futures too and laughing about it.
'Dean, that's not fair,' Castiel scolded. 'Just because she's wearing a sweater with a cat on it does not mean she's going to die alone with fifty cats.'
'Forty seven,' Dean corrected. 'But she won't be alone alone – that guy is going to be the weird heckler in the apartment under her who keeps coming up to tell her she's walking too loud, but he's secretly in love with her.'
'No, he's not.'
'Yes, he is.'
'No, he's not.'
'And why isn't he?'
'Because he's gay.'
'Oh, just because you're gay you have some special gaydar now?' Dean challenged, putting down his sandwich and folding his arms, giving Cas a stern look across the table.
'No,' Castiel replied evenly, 'because I just saw him check out that guy's ass.'
Cas nodded at a guy who wasn't sitting, but leaning against a chair at an angle with his ass sticking out. Dean looked over, then back at the guy in question, and there was no missing it. He was definitely checking out that ass.
'Could be bi,' Dean pointed out.
'Dean, he has to crane his neck and turn his head to look at that guy,' Castiel replied, 'but look at what's almost directly in front of him that he seems completely oblivious to.'
At the table basically across from the one the man in question was at, there was a woman in a low cut shirt with a lot of cleavage very obviously peeking out, and she seemed to be staring at the man giving her about as much attention as he would give a spoon.
'Alright, you got me.' Dean raised his hands in defeat, but he was right back on the game. 'Then the old heckler is the guy with the ass.'
'Poor gay non-heckler,' Castiel said with false sadness.
'A pity,' Dean sighed. 'That guy's eyes and that guy's ass would make such a cute couple.'
Castiel laughed, and Dean laughed because Cas was laughing and his laugh was better than the sweetest music he could ever hope to hear, and more beautiful to look at than the most vibrant sunset or strongest rainbow that there could ever be.
And then he remembered that Cas had clocked the guy checking out the ass of the other guy and wondered if Cas ever checked out anyone's ass besides jokingly checking out his when asked earlier. He hoped so in one sense, because thinking of Cas checking out ass was hot and rhymed, but on the other hand the only ass Dean wanted checked out by Cas was his.
Maybe he'd drop a fork in front of him later and have to bend over to pick it up.
In sweats. Dean's ass looked good and obvious in his sweets.
Especially with no underwear.
And Dean had suggested this morning they get take out and rent a movie …
Maybe they could get undressed and comfortable for that and Dean could wear sweats, no underwear and bend over.
Maybe they could even share a blanket on the sofa. With the fire on. And the curtains closed. And the lights off. And their feet on the same coffee table.
Or fuck the coffee table and pull out Dean's bed and have the two of them hang out on that, it wouldn't be weird. It'd only be weird if they were both under the duvet.
But Dean could easily find a store that sold blankets, wander in, find a soft or fluffy one, decide he liked how soft or fluffy it was and buy it pretending that was the sole reason, when the real reason was to hang out on his bed with Cas under a fluffy blanket and watch a movie and eat takeout.
A long movie.
A horror movie.
A long horror movie that would hopefully creep them out just a little, despite how fucking creepy and messed up their lives already were.
Lots of jump scares.
Maybe they could watch two movies.
Or three.
They'd already had two movie nights, but say … it was for research purposes.
Horror movies might have weird things in them. Maybe even black goo. Maybe even murders for prejudiced or bigoted reasons. Who knew what kind of creatures horror movies like The Exorcist or The Shining could have.
(Well, Dean did, but Cas didn't need to know that. Dean could just say he knew of the titles of them and thought they might contain clues. Research. Always research.)
Dean was a fucking genius.
Dean voiced his research idea to Cas as they left after their lunch and Castiel seemed to support it.
'If you think that'll help,' he nodded. 'And despite it being research … watching horror movies does seem like a thrill. Like it could be fun.'
And Dean suggested the bed thing too, making the excuse that they could use the blanket to cover their eyes if they didn't want to watch something, and also that it would be more comfortable, and easier to put the food in the middle between them rather on the coffee table in front of them which they'd have to keep bending forward towards when they wanted something.
What Cas took away from that was, 'you have a fluffy blanket?'
That was when Dean realized he'd actually used the term "fluffy blanket" and he felt like running out in front of that car he saw driving by.
'No, but I want one,' Dean said, and that made it sound even worse. 'A blanket I mean, for if it gets too hot and the duvet is too heavy but I don't want to go without covers, so a blanket will do.'
Cas had bought it. Dean was happy and evilly smirking internally.
Tonight would practically be a date.
A platonic date.
Between two guys who were good at the whole flirty dynamic even jokingly.
Two guys who were attracted to guys.
Two guys where one of them was in love with the other.
But it would still be a platonic date because Dean respected Cas too much to make any moves or advances on him.
Besides, Cas deserved better than Dean anyway. He deserved someone who wasn't afraid to tell him how they felt, who treated him with the love and respect he deserved from the moment they met him, and would never let any harm come to him, not if Dean could help it.
Shit. They. Not if they could help it. That other dude who Cas deserved to end up with, the one who unfortunately wasn't Dean, but was better than him …
Oh boy.
This was going to be a tough night.